


if it all goes wrong, darling, just hold on

by merlypops



Series: Space Husbands (Paul Stamets/Hugh Culber) [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Honestly I don't know why I wrote this but I'm in pain, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Love Confessions, M/M, Memories, Sad with a Happy Ending, Space Husbands, Survival, Survivor Guilt, The Klingons are being arseholes in this, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 19:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12416304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merlypops/pseuds/merlypops
Summary: “You can’t help the way you’re reacting. In this regard, you’re a civilian. You might be trained as a doctor but you’re not a soldier. You’re not equipped to deal with these conditions... so I understand why you're being more of a drama queen than usual.”“A drama queen,” Hugh repeated flatly but his lips were tugging up into an exhausted smile all the same. “I’m not a queen; I’m a doctor.”“But drama doctor doesn’t have quite the same ring to it,” Paul pointed out before marching over to the airlock. “Come along, Hugh. I’d rather not do this alone.”“You’re not alone, Paul,” Hugh said softly, his dark eyes earnest as he followed him. “You have me.”In war-torn Federation space, Hugh and Paul are fighting to survive, marooned on a tiny ship that is rapidly losing oxygen and power. On the brink of giving up, they rescue a little girl who shows them that - even in the darkest of times - there is always hope.Based on “Just Hold On” by Louis Tomlinson.





	if it all goes wrong, darling, just hold on

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! It's my second Paul/Hugh fic in as many days and I am putting myself in deep emotional pain wow. I haven't shipped two people this hard so quickly since... well, basically ever...  
> It's angsty and hopeful and I gave myself too many feelings but hopefully you'll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!  
> I couldn't get this idea out of my head honestly.  
> Enjoy!

Living on a cramped highjacked vessel in war-torn Federation space would have been bad enough at the best of times.

Sure, Hugh and Paul might have had some pretty explosive arguments if that were the case – because the astromycologist was the sort of insufferable man who would respond to: "Can I borrow a pencil?" with: "Oh, I don't know - _can_ you?" which is to say he was a gigantic (if surprisingly loveable) arsehole – but there wouldn’t have been the survivor’s guilt. There wouldn’t have been the terrifying threat of being boarded by a Klingon vessel as Starfleet crumbled apart around them.

They may have been safe for the moment – or safer than their former crew at least, who were either floating lifelessly through the icy vacuum of space or being tortured to death in a Klingon prison camp somewhere – but it wouldn’t save them.

The only option left to them seemed to be slowly dying.

The effects of living in constant fear were staggering. Hugh's beard was more grey than black now and Paul’s blond hair wasn’t much better. The doctor broke out in cold sweats sometimes and couldn't contain the shudders tearing through his diminishing frame as the unbearable loss of almost everything he knew settled in his bones. Hugh woke screaming on those first nights, so ensnared in his panic that only Paul could calm him with his trembling hands and gentle kisses.

After that, Hugh did his best not to sleep at all. It was easier than battling his way through the nightmares.

Everything was a painful blur now, of trying to get away as fast as they could and yet equally aware that there was nowhere they _could_ go. They were running towards oblivion, falling faster and faster all the time, and there was nothing to slow them down.

“I never thought the end would be so goddamn _slow_ ,” Paul said disgustedly one day, lying limply on the lumpy mattress that passed for a bed as he glared up at the ceiling. Paul did that a lot now that he didn’t have his research to lose himself in. It was like maybe a part of Paul had got lost instead.

“Maybe we’ll be rescued,” Hugh said but the hope he’d injected into his voice fell painfully flat. The replicator they used to make food had started malfunctioning the day before and Paul didn’t have the tools he needed to fix it and, even worse, they only had around two weeks’ worth of water left, and _that_ was only if they forwent washing and had the barest minimum required to keep them alive.

They wouldn’t be strong enough to fight if they were boarded. Most of the time, Hugh was barely strong enough to drag himself off the mattress.

The first time Paul suggested them boarding one of the ghost ships they often floated past and searching for supplies, Hugh had said it was too risky. The next times, he was too hungry to say no.

They watched the barely functioning monitors carefully as they floated on, trying to conserve fuel in case they had to make a last ditch attempt at escaping from a potential Klingon raiding ship. They could go days without seeing another vessel which was why, when they spotted one right at the edge of their low-range scanners with a life sign flickering faintly aboard it, Hugh pleaded with the blond man until Paul relented and began to guide their craft closer.

“Another mouth to feed,” the astromycologist said glumly and Hugh fired up at once, staring at the smaller man in something that was almost horrified.

“Paul, we are _not_ leaving them behind!”

Paul shot Hugh a vaguely alarmed look.

“Good god, man, of course we aren’t!” The blond man closed his eyes for a moment, clearly willing himself not to lose his temper and start shouting but, when they fluttered open and Hugh saw the hurt in them, he almost wished he _had_.

“I’m not a barbarian, dear doctor, whatever you seem to fear these days,” Paul said quietly. “I was simply stating a fact. Do you really think so poorly of me?”

Hugh weakened, his shoulders slumping as the grief threatened to crush him.

“No,” he said weakly, letting out a soft sigh when Paul turned his back to focus on guiding the vessel closer. “I’m just afraid… and I’m jealous because, even despite your own fear, somehow you’re still functioning. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Paul muttered. “You can’t help the way you’re reacting. In this regard, you’re a civilian. You might be trained as a doctor but you’re not a soldier," the blond man said, even though he wasn't either. Even though he was a _scientist_ , as he had told Lorca so frequently... before. "You’re not equipped to deal with these conditions... so I understand why you're being more of a drama queen than usual.”

“A drama queen,” Hugh repeated flatly but his lips were tugging up into an exhausted smile all the same. “I’m not a queen; I’m a doctor.”

“But drama doctor doesn’t have quite the same ring to it,” Paul pointed out before marching over to the airlock. “Come along, Hugh. I’d rather not do this alone.”

“You’re not alone, Paul,” Hugh said softly, his dark eyes earnest as he followed him. “You have me.”

*

They found a little girl on the ship, her back pressed into a corner and her little freckled face twisted into a seemingly permanent expression of petrified horror. The remains of her parents littered the ground in bloody puddles around them but Hugh barely noticed as he dropped down into a crouch in front of her, keeping his distance when she let out a high frightened whimper and slowly raising his hands in what was hopefully a reassuring gesture. Dimly, Hugh heard Paul kneeling down behind him but he was more focused on the way the little girl’s nostrils flared rapidly in time with her panicked breathing as the terror in her eyes finally gave way to tears.

Clearly, the Klingons had been the ones to wreak such havoc on her loved ones. Otherwise, the sight of other humans wouldn’t have made her feel as though she could finally let her guard down in front of strangers. The little girl – who couldn’t have been more than five or six – slithered down from where she’d plastered herself to the wall and both men groaned quietly when they saw the blood splattering the front of her pinafore. She was clutching a soft tattered grey rabbit with a death grip in her fist and she crawled to Hugh who was closest, burying her face in his neck and letting out a grief-stricken howl.

The doctor simply rocked her gently, kneeling there in the viscous fluid and trying to keep the little girl from falling apart. Paul disappeared briefly, presumably searching for supplies if the rustling Hugh could hear nearby was anything to go by.

The astromycologist returned swiftly, wearing a harried expression and clutching two squashed packets of crackers.

“The blood's still fresh,” Paul breathed when Hugh looked at him blankly. “They might still be in the area. We need to leave.”

The little girl squeaked fearfully when Hugh rose fluidly with her cradled to his chest but she didn’t struggle, simply hanging there limply in his grip with her rabbit in her fist, looking for all the world like she had no fight left anymore. Hugh wished he could do more than take her away from this carnage now. He wished he could truly save her, along with everyone else that was suffering.

Hugh wished none of this had ever happened in the first place.

“It’s alright, darling,” he murmured when the little girl let out a soft cry at her new surroundings as they entered their smaller vessel. The doctor had already ascertained that the blood covering her didn’t belong to her but the pain on her tiny, scrunched-up face refused to fade. Paul sealed the airlock behind them and headed back to the controls as Hugh settled her on the thin mattress in the corner, sitting down cross-legged in front of her when she watched him owlishly, her hazel eyes reddened with tears.

“You’re safe with us,” Hugh told her softly. “I promise. My name’s Hugh. I’m a doctor… or a physician really. I used to work on a big ship.”

“Even bigger than mine?” she whispered and Hugh’s heart felt too big for his chest that she trusted them enough to speak now. He was also deeply relieved that there was no language barrier to make this harder than it needed to be.

“Much bigger,” Paul said from nearby, kneeling down when she gave a little frightened squeak. “My name’s Paul. I worked on the ship too.”

“Were you a doctor as well?” she breathed, her nose stuffy from crying. The use of the past tense here hurt Hugh in ways he couldn’t explain.

“Nope, not me,” Paul said lightly, his blue eyes surprisingly warm as she peered up at him. “I used to study mushrooms.”

The little girl let out a startled giggle that sounded bright in the darkness.

“That's silly,” she whispered.

“That’s Paul,” Hugh said, agreeing with her. “Now, darling, do you have a name?” Her expression became closed off then and she jammed her lips together tightly, shaking her head as her eyes filled with tears again. Hugh panicked but Paul was quick to save the day.

“What about this delightful fellow?” he asked, gesturing to the rabbit she was now apparently trying to strangle in her arms. “Does _he_ have a name?”

“It’s a girl!” she disagreed. “Silly Mr Mushroom!” Hugh smiled a little and Paul pretended to be embarrassed, hiding his face behind shaking hands as the little girl giggled.

“I’m terribly sorry,” the blond man said as sincerely as he could manage. “If you can’t tell us your name, please could we know what your rabbit’s name is?”

The little girl hesitated before biting back a smile. “She’s called Princess Carrots,” she said, clearly proud of the name. “Mummy helped me think of it and –” She faltered as pain abruptly flooded her face but this time Hugh tried his best to fix the situation instead.

“Maybe that’s what we’ll have to call you then,” he said teasingly, making the little girl snort with laughter. “Princess Carrots. I think it suits you.”

“Now come along, Princess Carrots,” Paul said with a grin that only barely touched his eyes. “Shall we clean some of that muck off you? There’s a little bit of water we can spare I’m sure. And then we’ll carry on looking for help, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered, chancing a glance over at Hugh and calming when he nodded reassuringly at her.

“I’ll keep us moving,” the doctor told the blond man, holding Paul’s exhausted gaze for a long moment before he headed back to ensure they were still drifting in the right direction, as far away from the raided ship as possible.

Hugh caught a glimpse of his reflection in the shining metal of the console as he leant against the controls and his heart ached painfully in his chest. The bone-tiredness he felt was evident in the slope of his shoulders and he didn’t like the reflection staring back at him now; hated it almost as much as he did the sickening feeling of being terrified all the time. His rapidly greying beard made him look like his father back on Earth and Hugh let out an almost-inaudible whimper at the loss he felt.

“Dear doctor?” Paul called from the back of the vessel, clearly able to spot Hugh falling apart from a mile away. “Poor Princess Carrots has some tangles in her hair. Do you think you might be able to help her get them out while I sort through the food I was able to find?”

Hugh forced his eyes shut for a moment and swallowed down his tears, struggling to control the shaking of his hands. When he’d taken a few deep breaths and finally felt calmer, he straightened up, forcing a smile he didn’t feel at his reflection.

“Of course I can,” he said in a tone that hopefully sounded relaxed. “I didn’t have three sisters back on earth for nothing. I’m a _pro_ at doing hair.”

“Maybe you should do mine when we get off this damn ship,” Paul muttered as he passed him, clearly trying to take the sadness from the doctor's face although he gave him a searching look too. Hugh smiled a little despite himself.

“Maybe I will, Mr Mushroom.”

The little girl grew calmer when Hugh combed through her long hair with his fingers and, before too long – and probably thanks mainly to the shock she’d been through – she fell asleep on the mattress, curled up into a tight little ball with her rabbit clutched to her chest. Hugh smoothed the pinafore over her shoulder for a moment and she snuffled into the mattress, hiding her face as she sucked on her thumb. A lump had risen in his throat that he almost couldn’t breathe past and he was beyond relieved when Paul appeared behind him, gently taking his hand and guiding him back to the seats beside the console.

“I didn’t know you had sisters,” Paul said quietly and Hugh sighed, shrugging weakly. There was probably a lot they didn’t know about each other but maybe now was the time to tell the truth. Maybe they were too close to failing for there to be any secrets between them now.

“Do you want kids one day?” Hugh asked curiously, choosing to ignore that this would most likely be impossible now. The blond man stiffened for a moment before his posture relaxed when the doctor reached out to tangle their fingers comfortingly.

“I always wanted kids,” Paul said softly, surprising him. Hugh looked over at him in shock, his heart lifting in his chest although now hardly seemed the time to realise that: _oh my god, I want to have a family with you_.

“You did?” he asked in awe, even though Paul hated being asked to repeat himself… even though this weak worried little voice was the most honest Paul had ever been with him.

“I did,” the blond man said evenly. “I wanted to know if I could raise one without screwing up like my parents did.”

“That’s not nice,” Hugh murmured, brushing the blond man’s hair back from his frowning forehead gently. “You aren’t screwed up and besides, having a kid is a big responsibility. They’re not a science experiment.”

Paul flashed him a wan smile but it faded as he turned away.

“Better a science experiment than a human punching bag,” the blond man muttered and Hugh’s heart clenched painfully in his chest at the offhanded confession Paul had so nonchalantly thrown his way.

Hugh's reached out to snag the blond man’s hand and Paul froze, his head hanging as he swallowed hard against the tears lodging themselves in his throat.

“You didn’t deserve to be treated like that,” the doctor said softly. “You didn’t deserve to feel like you weren’t worth being loved.”

“Hugh,” Paul said warningly as he got to his feet but the doctor followed him, wrapping his arms gently around the blond man’s waist as he pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“I wish I’d told you how I felt years ago,” the doctor murmured and the blond man shuddered in his arms as the tears prickled in his eyes.

“Don’t,” Paul begged and his voice was almost a whimper now. “Hugh, _please_ don’t. I can’t stand it if you –”

“But it’s true,” Hugh whispered, his thumb rubbing comforting shapes into the palm of the blond man’s hand. “You’re my best friend in this entire godforsaken galaxy and you deserve to know this. I _love_ you, Paul. I always have done.”

Paul fell down onto the metal grating covering the floor and the keening sob that tore out of him was enough to make the little girl stir on her mattress. Hugh sank with him, opening his arms and folding the blond man tightly into his chest, holding him closer than he ever had before. Paul's hair was soft beneath the doctor's fingers and Hugh drew him wordlessly into his lap as he pressed a chaste kiss to the blond man’s forehead.

They stayed like that for a long time.

*

Things began to get worse quickly after that.

There wasn’t enough room for all three of them to sleep on the mattress so the two men were taking it in turns to share with her and the subsequent bad backs caused by sleeping on the floor certainly weren’t helping anything. Paul began to get what Hugh could only describe as cabin fever on the tenth day and, by the end of the evening, the panic attack that consumed him left him passed out on the mattress for over three hours.

Hugh didn’t know how to help him and it upset him more than he could say, seeing the blond man in such a state like that. He had no anti-anxiety medication to give him, no soothing words to murmur. There was nothing he could do to make this right.

All Hugh could think of was to lie down beside Paul on the mattress and hold him close, with the little girl huddled up asleep under his other arm, her rabbit ever-present in her fist. Paul opened his eyes eventually, the blue glassy with distress and pain. Hugh had never seen someone look so close to giving up before.

"Paul?" Hugh breathed but the blond man ignored him as a tear slid silently down his pale cheek.

“Computer?” Paul asked and there was a note of finality in his voice that hadn’t been present before. It made the hairs on the back of Hugh’s neck rise with trepidation. “What are our chances of survival?”

There was a mechanical whirring sound and then a robotic voice said: “Please provide factors for deliberation.”

Hugh closed his eyes as Paul pushed himself into a sitting position before crawling off the mattress so that he could pace the metal grating.

“Two adult males of average build. One five year old girl. All three potentially malnourished,” he listed, counting them off on his fingers. “Our water tank packed up today, the replicator is ruined, and we have four out-of-date crackers left to share. Our comms are fried, we’re drifting in Klingon space – because _everywhere_ is Klingon space now – and there are maybe two hours’ worth of oxygen left in our tanks.” The last admission made Hugh's heart threaten to stop in his chest and the look Paul shot him was raw pain. "I checked earlier," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

Hugh held the little girl closer, closing his eyes tighter against the tears welling as he heard Paul draw in a ragged breath.

“Computer, what are our chances of survival?” the blond man forced out, even though he already knew… even though the toy _rabbit_ could probably have told them that the end was nigh.

“Calculating,” the computer said monotonously before giving another of those unhealthy sounding clanks and stating: “You have a _five per cent_ chance of survival if you are rescued by a Federation vessel within the next _two hours_.”

“Two hours,” Paul repeated and his voice almost sounded _pleasant_ which was what really sent alarm bells ringing for Hugh. “That’s brilliant. Thank you, computer. Thank you so _fucking_ much!”

Something snapped inside the astromycologist then.

Hugh saw it in his face; watched as something good collapsed inside Paul and the panicked animalistic terror swept through him like a tidal wave to replace it. The blond man threw himself at the nearest wall with a wordless scream, his fists beating against the metal again and again. The crashes were almost unbearably loud in the confined space and the vicious curses that started to pour out of him in a breathless torrent were enough to bring tears to Hugh’s eyes as he realised just how much self-hatred Paul had been harbouring under that mild expression... as he realised that, no matter how illogical it seemed, Paul blamed _himself_ for this.

“Paul,” Hugh choked out, tears sliding down his face as the astromycologist let out one last heartbroken: “ _Fuck_!” and crumpled to the floor in tears.

“Paul, please,” Hugh sobbed but, when the blond man jerked his head up with so much pain and anger blazing in his eyes that the doctor flinched away, it was the little girl who helped the blond man regain control. She didn’t seem to realise the graveness of their situation and had apparently awoken at some point during the blond man’s tirade, and she simply fixed him with a disapproving look now, pointing one tiny finger at him in an admonishing fashion.

“Those are bad words,” she said firmly. “Say sorry, Mr Mushroom. You _have_ to say sorry if you say a bad word… and you said _lots_.”

“Lots,” Hugh agreed shakily, keen to make her smile although his voice rasped at how thirsty he was. Paul smiled like his heart had broken in his chest but, when he seemed content to simply stare at her, slack-jawed and apparently slightly stunned, the little girl gave an exaggerated shrug.

“I’m sorry, Mr Mushroom,” she said calmly. “But I don’t make the rules.”

Hugh held his breath as he waited for Paul to explode again but what happened instead took his breath away.

“You’re right,” the blond man said quietly, hanging his head and looking for all the world like a toddler being reprimanded. “I’m very sorry for being so unbelievably rude. Can you ever forgive me, Princess Carrots?”

“Yes,” the little girl said quietly, a gentle smile tugging at her lips although she seemed to be trying to suppress it so that she could remain looking stern. “But my name’s not really Princess Carrots, Mr Mushroom.” She seemed to be taking a deep breath to calm herself. “It’s Alison.”

“That’s a lovely name,” Hugh croaked softly, his eyes welling with tears again. “Almost as good as Princess Carrots.”

“Silly Hughie,” she said gently but her eyes were tired as she rubbed the pad of her thumb over her rabbit’s ear like a comfort blanket. “Can we all lie together on the mattress? I know there’s not room properly but if we put our heads on it then it’ll be like one giant pillow.”

“That’s a good idea,” Paul said and Hugh thought he might have been the only one who noticed the blond man shaking with silent tears. “But how about you lie down on it properly instead, try to get some more sleep? And then Hughie and I can use it as a pillow, so we’re next to you in case you need us.”

“I already need you both, Mr Mushroom,” she breathed but her eyes fluttered shut quickly, like she was already weakened by the lack of food and water. “Just wanna sleep.”

“Get some rest, Alison,” Hugh said softly, stroking her hair back from her forehead with the utmost care. “We’ll be right here when you wake up.”

 _If_ you wake up.

Just as they’d promised, the pair of them lay down on the metal grating with their heads resting side by side. The metal ceiling was nothing fancy to look at but Hugh couldn’t look at Paul anymore; all of the things they’d never get to do or say to each other tasted too bitter in his mouth, and Hugh was choking on the loss already. He thought he might die right then if he thought of one more moment they’d never get to share.

“What do you miss?” Hugh asked Paul without looking at him. “Right now, what do you miss the most?”

He half expected Paul not to answer him, or if he did, to snap that Hugh was wasting their oxygen. What he _wasn’t_ expecting was the soft look Paul levelled at him when he rolled over to prop his chin up in his palm, his blue eyes gentle as he reached to run a trembling hand down Hugh’s cheek. It came away damp with tears and Hugh swallowed hard when he saw the moisture. He hadn't realised he was crying.

“Apart from coffee, sandwiches, and lube?” Paul joked wearily. Hugh kicked him weakly in the shin but he remained gazing up at the dark ceiling although he did chance a glance over at Alison to make sure she was sleeping. “I miss people. Proper bathroom facilities. My experiments. Edgar.”

“Edgar?” Hugh asked. “Who’s Edgar?”

“I had a little black cat once," Paul replied, seemingly without reason. Hugh made a small noise of confusion and the astromycologist continued in that same soft voice. "His name was Edgar. He lived in my father's house until the day dad died and then he left. Just disappeared in the night. I never saw him again.”

“Paul…” Hugh began weakly, his eyes glistening with fresh tears because he’d never heard this before. Judging by the strange look on Paul’s slackened face, he’d never told anyone either.

“That’s how I knew dad was dead, actually. Before I even found his body. Because Edgar wasn’t sitting on the floor outside my bedroom and yowling for food the way he did every morning. He’d left and I remember the oddest sinking feeling in my chest, like I just _knew_ dad was gone before I even saw him. I think sometimes you can just tell.”

Hugh didn’t tell Paul that he was sorry because he knew the blond man wouldn’t want to hear it. Instead, he simply gave Paul the love he so desperately craved as he reached to squeeze the blond man's shoulder comfortingly.

“Everything is going to be –”

“Don’t say alright, dear doctor,” Paul snapped. “Don’t do that to me. Don’t you dare.”

“But –”

“You know, I dream about you sometimes,” Paul said out of nowhere, cutting across him with such determination that Hugh pressed his lips shut to keep the boiling tears in. “You and Edgar. He always appears, winding around your ankles right before something terrible happens and I lose you for good.” Paul inhaled shakily, his eyes glassy with tears as a gasping breath escaped him. Dimly, Hugh wondered how much oxygen they had left.

“If _this_ was a dream, Edgar would be here with us right now,” Paul whispered. “He’s always here before the end.”

“It might not be the end,” Hugh argued but even he didn’t believe his words anymore. Alison’s chest barely rose and fell behind them, and he was beginning to feel exhausted himself as a deep lethargy washed over him. The air was running out but the computer didn’t seem to have enough power left to sustain the warning sound that accompanied the little flashing red light over on the console.

There were tears rolling silently down the blond man’s face now.

“I’m having that sinking feeling again,” Paul admitted out of nowhere but his face had become strangely calm. “I think it’s time.”

Behind them, Alison slept on with her rabbit cradled to her chest and, after peering around to ascertain this, Paul nodded to himself and leant forwards to press a brief kiss to the corner of Hugh’s mouth. “I love you too, dear doctor.”

“Proximity alert,” the computer whirred suddenly, the words bleak and uncaring. “Unknown ship approaching.”

The words should have sent fear thrumming through Hugh but the fight had bled out of him now. He simply gazed back at Paul silently, the blond man’s beautiful blue eyes so agonised and exhausted, his body limp as he lay there across from the doctor, their fingertips barely touching.

They had no idea who was out there; friend or foe, rescuer or torturer.

It was most likely the Klingons. Hugh’s nightmares were probably about to come true but he wasn’t sure he cared anymore.

He just wanted it all to be over now.

Wordlessly, Paul's fingers entwined with his and Hugh closed his damp eyes as the whir of a tractor beam sounded.

The sudden upwards glide as their ship rose against its will caused Alison to wake and she let out a frightened sound from where she was marooned on the mattress behind them. Hugh heard Paul calling to her gently and the shuffling sounds she made as she struggled through the blankets to reach them, her toy rabbit forgotten in her desperation to make it into the safety of their arms. Paul shushed her gently and Hugh opened his eyes to take her hand, his eyes burning with tears when Paul brushed what felt like one last kiss over his cheekbone –

And then a startled noise tore out of the astromycologist and Hugh’s heart clenched with the panic he had been trying so hard to suppress.

He didn’t want to know what sign the blond man had just noticed of their impending demise. He just wanted to sit here basking in this last feeling of love before his world became fire and pain. He wanted to focus on Paul’s hand on his cheek and Alison’s wide, innocent eyes fixed trustingly on his face. He wanted to –

“Blue,” Paul choked out and he was crying now but the hope on his face hurt to look at, although Hugh would gladly have gone blind staring at him just then. “The light’s _blue_. It's a Starfleet ship.”

Hugh’s heart rose into his throat as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, drawing Alison into his lap and wrapping an arm securely around the blond man’s shoulders. Faintly, Hugh realised he was sobbing… sobbing harder than he ever had in his life.

“Don’t cry, Hughie,” Alison whispered, scrunching up her freckled nose in concern. “You’re so silly. The nice soldiers have come to help us now.”

Hugh prayed her words were true.

He knew it was possible they were, just like it was possible that the Klingons had highjacked the ship and were using it to capture the last survivors still drifting across the galaxy.

Hugh tried _so_ hard not to let his hope bloom but, when he looked up and saw the tears sparkling on Paul’s cheeks as a delirious smile curved at his lips, the feeling consumed him until it was all he could think of anymore.

The metal door to their ship lowered of its own accord once it has been pressurised and the light that abruptly rushed in to greet them was blinding after so long in shadows. Hugh winced, closing his eyes tightly as he heard his two companions go effectively blind beside him too, both groaning softly in pain. Footsteps approached and Hugh held Paul’s hand tighter than he ever had, a broken sob tearing out of him when he heard _humans_ voicing their concern nearby.

 _Saved_. They were **saved**.

In that moment, Hugh no longer cared that the Federation was ravaged by war and that Starfleet were on the losing side.

All he could focus on was the fact that he had at least one more day to spend with Paul and Alison.

One more day to try to wipe the pain from the little girl's face.

One more day to tell Paul he loved him.

Hugh’s heart calmed in his chest as the knowledge that their lives weren’t lost yet slowly began to sink in.

Whatever was coming would come and they would face it the same way they always did.

Together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading <3  
> Please let me know what you thought!


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